


A Rare Cut of Meat

by VintagePoison



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Explicit Language, Food, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Romance, first time writing this sort of thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintagePoison/pseuds/VintagePoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal have dinner together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rare Cut of Meat

Food and sex--for as long as mankind can remember, there has been a correlation. The Venus de Milo in her plumb sensuality epitomizes both the great carnalities. To this day, a true courtship is incomplete without some wining and-- more importantly--dining. Food can increase the libido because food is a primitive promise to take care of one’s mate. And the more elegant and decadent the food, the more sincere the promise seems to be.

Such an interesting mating dance they were trapped in. Hannibal offering his fine wines and exotic delicacies like a bird of paradise displaying his plumage. It was seduction. One needed only their God given eyes to see that. But Will was the eternal coquette. Dining upon his host’s promises, but never offering more but a promise of his own in return.

“This is excellent; what is it?”

“Wagyu Kobe rib eye with grilled with white winter truffle oil and a selection of locally grown seasonal root vegetables.”

Will raised an eyebrow at the morsel on his fork. Perfectly marbled flesh cooked only as long as needed to further bring out the flavor paired with mushroom oil that even he knew was ridiculously expensive. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, cracking a smile across the table.

Hannibal paused as he lifted the wine glass to sniff the bouquet of the rare french wine that complimented the meal. “You do not remember?” he asked.

Will tried to think for a moment. He was certain it wasn’t his birthday and it wasn’t a holiday. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me a hint,” he said and placed the fork in his mouth. The harmony of flavors was particularly exquisite this time.

Hannibal’s mouth curved. “Very well,” he said. “Think about what transpired three months ago.”

Three months ago. Will thought for a moment as he chewed. After a moment, he swallowed. “Unless you’re referring to Mason Verger feeding his face to my dogs, I’m still not sure what we’re celebrating.”

“It has been three months since either of one of us has tried to kill the other,” Hannibal commented and then took a sip of wine. His eyes closed momentarily in appreciation, although whether he was savoring the vintage or the non-violence between them would be anyone’s guess.

Will’s mouth twitched, smiling despite his better judgement. “Well, happy anniversary,” he chuckled. It was progress, of a sort, he supposed. Although what they were progressing towards was mildly concerning in some ways. The lull in their attempts to outfox each other was good for their relationship, but bad for attempts to bring Hannibal to justice. He couldn’t help wondering if this temporary peace was just another part of Hannibal’s machinations.

“Happy anniversary,” Hannibal said, lifting his wine glass in salute briefly and then cutting into the tender meat on his place. It bled onto the plate, pink in the center.

Will stared at the bleeding meat and for a moment the room flickered. For a moment, they were not alone and the horned specter that haunted all their moments together looked across the table at him in calm satisfaction. To his credit, Will’s face barely twitched.

“Is everything alright?” Hannibal asked, who only needed the minutest twitch to tell that Will was having one of his “little moments”.

“Everything is--” the specter faded away and Will focused on his host “--delicious.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal said. “It was a delight to cook it for you.”

Will chuckled again, slightly awkwardly. How did you respond to that sort of thing? It was those old school European manners again; American born and raised, Will sometimes wondered how many faux pas he committed on a daily that Hannibal would have turned him into pot roast for. “I think this is one of the first times I’ve eaten your cooking and worried about who I was eating,” he commented. “It’s a, uh, pleasant changed.”

Hannibal smiled. “You can thank me by staying the night instead of driving in the snowstorm,” he said. “I would hate to lose you in the snow.”

“You want me to spend the night with you?” Will said. “Why, Dr. Lecter, people might start talking.”

“Good.”

Will stopped laughing, mildly alarmed by the slightly predatory quirk to Hannibal’s mouth and the sincerity in that single syllable. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” he said, a moment too slow. It wasn’t like this wasn’t something he hadn’t thought of. But he should--no, he needed to-- not blur the lines of this relationship any further.

“It is no inconvenience and I will not accept no as an answer,” Hannibal said calmly.

Oh. Will grabbed his wineglass and took a larger than necessary gulp. It was good wine, but it needed to be a hell of a lot stronger. “I guess I’m staying then,” he said.

“Good,” Hannibal repeated.

The note in his voice was enough to make Will’s hand slip. The wine splashed onto the table, seeping into the table cloth like blood into a shroud. “Shit, I’m sorry; let me--” Will started, fumbling for his napkin.

Hannibal was suddenly across the table and Will fully expected to him to tell him not to worry and make some joke about pairing the wine and food while helping him mop up. What he didn’t expect was for his wine dripping fingers to suddenly be in the psychiatrist's mouth.

His first reaction is yank his hand away given Hannibal’s usual dining habits. But the slight bite of teeth against his knuckles was meant he’d had lost the skin off them. The moment stretches on just a little too long for Will’s comfort.

“C-could I have my fingers back please?”

Hannibal grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him from his chair. Will’s fingers were liberated, only for his lips to be taken prisoner. Damn it. He tasted like blood and wine.

Will’s fingers, still wet with salvia, wrapped in the other man’s jacket as the protests in his mind melted like one of Hannibal’s dishes did on the tongue. Will couldn’t help a quiet, shameful noise of enjoyment before he realized he was being backed against the table.

Hannibal grips him, a hand tight in Will’s hair and another grabbing a steak knife. There’s not even enough time for Will to panic before the psychiartist starts slicing off the buttons on his shirt.

“Am I part of dinner now?” Will managed to quip, his breathing hard.

“No.” Hannibal’s dark eyes gleamed. “You are dessert.”

The truth of courtship is flesh for flesh. The flesh you dine upon in exchange for the flesh of another pleasure. The flesh that is feasted upon for the flesh that is fucked.

It was time for Will's debt of flesh to be paid.


End file.
